


Tell Me A Story

by margaerystark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaerystark/pseuds/margaerystark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb recounts the story of how he met his wife to his eldest daughter. (What would have happened if the Tyrells decided to go North with the royal family when Robert asked Ned to be his hand.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me A Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebeccavis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavis/gifts).



“Papa?” she questions quietly, cautiously opening the door to her father’s room. There’s a pile of dirty clothing in the corner next to his bed as well as a few used cups, and she makes a mental note to clean them up after she talks with him. There are no candles lit in the dingy room; the only light comes from the windows. She thinks he’s sleeping at first, but then he beckons her over, and she takes a seat on his bed.

“What is it, my sunshine?” he asks, his voice hoarse, making her glad she brought him a cup of water.

“Here, Papa,” she urges, handing it over to him.  She makes sure he takes a sip before speaking again. “I was wondering if you would tell me a story.”

He quirks a brow at her, sitting up further and taking another drink. “A story?”

“Yes. The story of you and Mother, actually. If you don’t mind telling it.”

A smile appears on his weathered face for the first time in a good two weeks. “And how many times have you heard that one?”

“Too many to count. I can say it all by heart,” she replies, grinning. “But I want to hear it again anyway.”

 “She didn’t want to admit how enamored she was with me at first,” he starts. He’s told this story a hundred times over, but not once has this part sounded cocky or proud. He still seems to be in awe, his blue eyes sparkling as he recalls the memory. “Later she told me I was the most handsome face she laid eyes on. I told her she was a liar.”

She laughs, reaching down to take her father’s hand and give it a soft squeeze. “She wasn’t lying. You were the most handsome man in the world to her, even if you didn’t think you were,” she remarks, “she adored everything about you.”

“And I her,” he whispers, his expression wistful before he continues. “We were both enticed from the first moment we laid eyes on each other. It wasn’t love, but it wasn’t long before it became love.”

❁

_She can feel his gaze on her from across the room, and she tucks a stray curl behind her ear, her cheeks flushing pink. “Elinor, can you look up and tell me if the Stark boy is staring at me?” she asks her cousin, thinking perhaps she’s imagining things._

_“Oh, he was, but he’s pretending he wasn’t now. It’s no surprise, though, Margaery. You aren’t blind. Half of men in this room have their sights on you.” Elinor’s nose crinkles slightly, and she takes a sip from her glass._

_Margaery ignores her cousin’s japes and glances up to study Robb for herself. It’s difficult to make out all of his features in the candlelight, but his red curls and prominent profile make her heart skip a beat. His eyes flicker upwards through his dark lashes then, and he gives her a shy smile which she is quick to return. “I think I will go talk with him,” she tells Elinor, quirking a brow and setting her drink down._

_“Just because you fancy his looks? I thought you had higher standards.”_

_She thinks Elinor silly sometimes.  “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity,” she insists, standing from her chair, “I’m curious to find out if Robb Stark is more than just a pretty face.” She walks across the hall, ignoring the other eyes on her as she takes a seat next to the eldest Stark child._

_“Hello,” she says, trying not to laugh at his shocked expression, “I’m Margaery. I know we had a formal introduction after the royal family greeted you, but I wanted to talk to you for myself.”_

_“I’m Robb,” he says quietly, his eyes still wide, “you… erm, hello, my lady.”_

_She almost says ‘hello’ again, her cheeks still a faint shade of pink like his. “You can call me by my name,” she tells him._

_He tests her name out a few times as they talk, neither of them lacking in anything to say. She inquires about his siblings as he does of hers, and then the conversation turns to their homes. He asks her how she likes it in Winterfell._

_“It’s different, but in a good sort of way,” she tells him. “The North is beautiful, though it’s far colder than Highgarden, and I must admit that I miss my flowers.”_

_“We have flowers here,” he’s quick to tell her, “would you like to see?”_

_She nods her head, and she laughs when he stands from his table to offer her his hand and lead her out of the hall. The king at the present is making a fool of himself; she doubts anyone will even notice them leave together._

_“You were eager to get out,” she teases, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as he leads her to wherever his flowers might be._

_He turns to give her a smile and shake his head. “The feast was fine, but this is better.”_

_When they step outside, a wave of cold washes over her, and she gives a shiver, moving closer to her new companion. He seems to notice her discomfort, and he shields her from the wind, stepping in front of her. “We just have to walk a few paces to the glass garden,” he tells her. There’s no snow on the ground, but her feet feel numb as they cross the courtyard and he leads her to a greenhouse, opening the door and stepping into the warmth._

_The building is full of vegetation and life, and the moonlight illuminates their way, shining brightly on the blue roses growing next to the other flowers. “I’m sure it’s not the same as Highgarden, but-”_

_“It’s lovely,” she remarks, slightly breathless, taking in the smell of earth and plants, just like her home. “Thank you, Robb.”_

_He picks one of the roses and hands it to her, and she lets go of his hand to thread the stem into her braid and wear it in her hair. “The only thing missing is music,” she says, “the bards never stop singing in Highgarden. It’s made me loathe the silence in a way and appreciate it in others. Everyone dances there as well. That’s my favourite part.”_

_“We can dance without music,” he tells her, his face immediately growing red as if he didn’t quite know what he was suggesting until the words spilled from his mouth._

_“All right,” she replied, doing a graceful turn and then placing her hand overtop of his. He moves with her then, spinning in a circle, the two of them a bit clumsy as they figure out each other’s style. She laughs, wondering how she ended up in a greenhouse dancing to no music with a boy she barely knows._

_He’s smiling still when their dance is done, and she swears she can hear his heart beating but the sound of her own is drowning his out. “You’re a wonderful dancing partner,” she tells him, and he chuckles._

_“I think you’re lying so that you don’t wound my feelings.”_

_She raises her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Robb Stark. I like you.” She leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, holding her hand out to him when she pulls away. “Will you show me the rest of Winterfell?” she asks._

_It takes a second or two for him to move, her kiss apparently having rendered him speechless, but then he takes her hand again, threading their fingers together and giving a nod in affirmation._

❁

“I didn’t leave her side that whole night. I didn’t want to give any other man the chance to take my place.”

“She would have chosen you, Papa, even if you did. Remember what she said to you? ‘I would choose you in a million lifetimes. I would cross every river, conquer every fortress, climb every mountain-”

“-and slay every dragon to be with you, my love,’” he finishes, his smile never fading. “But I still didn’t want to take any chances that night. I was so anxious to go to my father the next day and ask him to propose our betrothal to Lord Mace Tyrell. I hardly slept between my nerves and thoughts over your mother. At the time I didn’t know what it all meant; we were both so young and parents normally arranged these things. I didn’t think about the alliance that would form between the North and South. All I knew is that I wanted to be with her.”

❁

_She barely gets any sleep the night after she meets him. By the time she falls into bed, she’s being awoken by a knock on her door. She answers it, and it’s him again, his presence bringing a smile on her face despite her tiredness. “Why are you awake, Robb Stark?” she asks playfully, though her demeanor changes slightly when she realizes how serious he looks. She takes his hand, pulling him inside of her room. “Is everything all right?” she asks, running her thumb over his skin comfortingly._

_“I went to see my father this morning,” he tells her, still so solemn, “I asked him what he thought of a betrothal… between the two of us. He told me I should talk to you first.”_

_She drops his hand. “You’ve only known me for a night.”_

_He blinks a few times. “I’m aware.”_

_“One night and you know you want to spend the rest of our lives together?” She quirks a brow, her gaze on him intense. “Or maybe it’s the South you want?” she continues, “the Reach’s crops and wine and men at your disposal? Did your family tell you to give me a rose and dance and stay up all night talking with me, or was that your own brilliant idea?” She tries to hide the fact that she’s more curious than angry. “It’s a test, that’s all it is,” she thinks, “please, please pass.”_

_“It wasn’t an idea. It just happened. I’m asking you because you’re the first girl I’ve wanted to give roses and dance and stay up all night talking to, not because anyone told me I should.” Her mouth falls open slightly, her heart beating in her chest. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Margaery Tyrell. I like you,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to press a gentle kiss to her lips._

_It’s the first time she’s ever kissed anyone, and she suspects the same of him, his hands tentatively moving down to rest on her waist. She smiles and slides her own hands up his chest to hook around his neck, letting her mouth open under his so his tongue can slip between her lips. When they pull away, they’re both breathless, splotches of red dotting their cheeks._

_“That was unfair,” she murmurs teasingly, granting him another soft kiss. “We can talk to my father together. I wouldn’t leave you to do that by yourself, especially since I want to marry you as well.”_

_She watches as a wave of relief washes over him, and he beams, taking her hand and leading her out of her room and down the corridor to her father’s chambers. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to wipe the smile from her face._

❁

“Your grandfather Mace agreed to a betrothal. At the time he seemed enamored with the idea of the North and South coming together over ‘young love’.  Your aunt Sansa was to be married to Joffrey, and I was to be married to Margaery.” He gives a small chuckle, shaking his head. “My poor father. He had marriage propositions thrown at him from every which way that week. But I was glad I didn’t wait. I was falling in love with your mother more and more with every minute we spent together.

“I didn’t want her to leave when it came time for everyone to depart South, but I promised I would visit Highgarden soon.”

❁

_The next time she sees Robb, he has a grown a beard. She recognizes him straight away anyhow, dismounting her horse and running into his arms, wide smiles on both of their faces. His father and mother are in King’s Landing at the present, and so he is acting as lord in their stead. He whispers ‘damn my duties for the day’ to her, taking her hand and leading her inside the castle and up the stairs to his room. She sheds her cloak takes a seat on his bed with him._

_“You look too old for me now. I’m still a little girl while you are a man,” she teases, running her fingers over his scratchy stubble._

_“You hate it.” His face falls. “I’ll shave when I get the chance.”_

_“No, don’t. It suits you,” she murmurs, leaning forward to test the feeling of his new beard on her lips. She gives a soft laugh as she kisses over his jaw and up to his mouth, letting out a small, contented sigh when he wraps his arms around her small frame and pulls her close to him._

_“Thank you for coming here. I needed you,” he admits quietly as he draws back to look at her properly. His cheeks are flushed pink after their kiss._

_“You can always ask for me, and I’ll always come to you as soon as I can.”_

_He smiles sadly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit Highgarden. I had to-”_

_“Stay with your brother, I know,” she finishes for him, “I would have done the same if it was one of my brothers. Don’t apologize, my sweet.”_

_He pauses before speaking up again, looking hesitant. “We were attacked the other day, by a few wildlings in the woods. I don’t know what would have happened to Bran if Theon wasn’t there. He can’t defend himself anymore. He’s young of course, but before he was fast and he could climb and hide… I don’t want to leave him alone now.”_

_Her eyes grow wide as she listens to him, her heart beating quickly in her chest. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” she asks, squeezing his hand. “All of you are fine?”_

_“We managed to walk away unharmed.”_

_She gives a small nod and then falls silent for a few moments. “I want to get married,” she says finally, looking up at him._

_“Margaery…”_

_“What if you were hurt? What if I lose you before I become your wife?”_

_He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”_

_Her cheeks feel hot, and her eyes go to the ground once more. “I read your letters and think about how your mother thinks Bran was pushed instead of falling, of the fire and the assassin who came, of how you’re preparing for war, and now you talk of wildlings. I fear for your safety. It seems like something terrible is always waiting just around the bend. Sometimes I think that if we’re married that it will break the chain of bad events… I’m being stupid.”_

_“You’re the furthest thing from stupid,” he says softly, leaning in closer to press a kiss to her temple, “you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself, I promise. And-”_

_“And you want to get married properly. When your parents are here to witness our wedding. I know, my love. We can wait until then,” she whispers, meeting his gaze again._

_He seems awestruck for a moment before he leans in to press a tender kiss to her lips. “You called me your love,” he explains, drawing back only slightly._

_“Because I love you,” she breathes, letting out a jovial laugh as he practically pulls her into his lap and rains kisses over her cheek._

_“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against hers and making her giggle again. “I love you, Margaery. I’m so glad we’re going to be married.”_

❁

“Was there a moment when you knew, Papa?” she asks quietly, “a single moment you can pinpoint when you were certain you loved Mother?”

“No, my sunshine. It was a string of moments building to a feeling. She was so beautiful to me, and I mean her heart as well when I say that. I wanted to bottle up her smiles and warmth and smell whenever I didn’t have her near, and whenever we were together, she overwhelmed me.”

❁

_It doesn’t take long for the two of them to start sneaking into each other’s rooms. The first time it happens, Margaery blames not wanting to be alone on a nightmare, the second on wishing to be warmer, and by the third night she needs no excuse. During the day they find moments to be alone together. They slip under blankets and tenderly undress each other and kiss every portion of skin on one another’s bodies. Theon had always told him that there were ways to take and give pleasure to a lady without getting her with child, but he didn’t fully understand what the older man meant until Margaery. He’s certain he’ll never forget the first time she kisses between his legs or the way her lips taste afterwards. He barely takes a moment to wonder if what they’re doing is honorable or proper; he loves her, she’s to be his wife, and that’s all there is to it._

_“What do your house words mean, sweetheart?” she asks him one afternoon, her fingers trailing over his arm. “Everyone says they’re a warning, and I know that winter will always return, but what were you told?”_

_One of his hands is tangled in her curls, the other at her hip. He smiles at her. “Aye, it’s a warning for winter’s return, but it’s more that as well. It’s saying that there will always be dark moments in our futures and that we should be prepared for them.”_

_“Do you know what my house would say to that?” she asks, raising her eyebrows, and he shakes his head. “Winter always yields to spring,” she teases, giving a soft giggle._

_“Oh, really?” he questions playfully, laughing along with her. He gently rolls overtop of her and pins down her arms, and she lets out a soft squeal. “Do you yield now?”_

_“I yield, I yield!” she insists, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle free beneath him. He leans down to press a deep kiss to her lips, and she goes still before snaking her arms around his middle and pulling him closer._

❁

“After that second visit, she went home to make the final preparations for our wedding. We decided to have the ceremony in Highgarden to appease her father, and it was only fair since she had already been to my home twice. But we also agreed to have a second ceremony afterwards underneath the heart tree.

“Your mother was so good to me. It amazed me how easily and quickly she was able to adapt and how much she wanted to know about the North and its traditions. I don’t think there was a single soul in Winterfell who didn’t fall in love with her. When I was called to council or training in the courtyard or out hunting, she would be at the orphanage building snow castles with the children or spending her coin at the market or helping Asha with Bran and Rickon. She was already the perfect Lady of Winterfell.

“Looking back, I wish I wouldn’t have let her go home. I wish I would have married her right then. It wasn’t long after she returned to Highgarden that your grandfather was accused of high treason. Renly Baratheon fled King’s Landing after his brother’s death and came to negotiate an alliance with the Reach, and the Tyrells were prepared to make Margaery his queen and forget the Starks altogether. But as soon as she heard the news, she turned around and came back to me. She didn’t have guards or a guide or anything but her horse and a satchel carrying some food, a few dresses and a dagger. I don’t even think she had a map! But she found her way back to me. She told me the wind carried her in my direction.

“She pleaded with me to make her my wife as soon as she jumped off her horse. I had just gotten the news that my father was dead; it was so hard to think of anything but him or anything but war. But your mother’s loving arms enveloped me. She swore her allegiance to me along with the banners who christened me ‘King in the North.’ And that night we were married… that night we made you.

“She had to go back to her home to tell her family that she was a Stark, and she planned on rallying her father’s forces and bringing them to my aid. I wanted Grey Wind to go with her, but she insisted he stay with me, so I sent a few of my men instead. I would have never let her gone if I knew then that she was carrying you in her stomach. I was terrified to have my new wife travel in a war-infested country, but she was careful. My fears were quelled with a raven only a few weeks later, however. She was coming back to me yet again, and she was taking the armies of the Reach with her.”

❁

_Highgarden looks almost foreign to her as she dismounts her horse, her head spinning and her stomach churning. She holds onto a beam in the stables as she takes in a few shallow breaths, fearing she might vomit, but then the feeling passes._

_“Are you all right, your grace?” Wendel Manderly asks, quickly coming to her aid._

_“I’m fine, thank you,” she replies with a small smile, righting herself and giving the kind man a nod. She’s been out of sorts for the past few days, but she’s happy for it. Her moonblood didn’t arrive on time, and her sickness in the morning indicates that she is with child._

_Her father greets her at the castle’s gates, but his welcome is less than warm. She did run away from home, after all. Away from Renly and Loras. Away from her duties._

_“We had a wedding ceremony arranged, Margaery,” Mace says, his brow furrowed, “Renly-”_

_“Renly will have to find himself a new bride. I am married to Robb Stark now,” she tells him, watching his jaw go slack. “I made sure there was a septon there to officiate our marriage, to make sure no one could claim it invalid. He is a witness, as are the old gods and new. And I was bedded; there are sheets to prove it should you need them.”_

_“This is nonsense!” Mace sputters, spit flying from his mouth, “I may have agreed to a Stark-Tyrell marriage before Eddard Stark was accused of high treason, but your new husband was to be Renly! We will… there has to be some sort of way to fix this.”_

_“The Starks were never informed of our wish to break our agreement with them. Robb was never not my betrothed.”_

_“Seven hells, Margaery. How do you expect me to respond to this childish act of defiance? I never took you for a foolish girl, but perhaps I was wrong. I didn’t think your heart would ever rule over your head.”_

_“I think I’m capable of using both, Father. As you should be as well. I’m carrying my husband’s child.” She smiles as she says the words she’s been holding onto, placing a hand over her stomach. Mace’s eyes mist over with tears, and he reaches for her despite his previous disapproval. She takes his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I suggest you send our armies north lest you wish your daughter to end up a widow and your grandchild without a father,” she remarks, and only a few seconds pass before he nods his head._

❁

“Then comes the war. Your least favourite part,” Robb teases his daughter, giving her a small smile.

“You can skip it. I know how the story goes,” she says, and he gives her a nod to go on. She takes a deep breath, shaking her head slightly in amusement before she recites the history she knows so well. “You had practically all of the armies of the North and South against the Lannister armies thanks to Mother. Lord Renly died under strange circumstances; some say it was magic. So you joined forces with King Stannis. He would take the Iron Throne and the six southren kingdoms, and you would rule over the North as an independent entity. Needless to say, you won. The incest king was killed, and the surviving Lannisters were either executed or banished to the Shield Islands.”

“The war was over before your mother even gave birth to you,” he adds with a chuckle. “We held a celebration in honour of you; all of Winterfell rejoiced the day you were born. But I wasn’t a part of it. I stayed inside, celebrating in my own way with Margaery. I held you in my arms and marveled over the tiny, incredible being that somehow looked like both me and my wife. You were everything to us… and it was then that we realized we wanted a million and one more of you,” he teases, making her laugh.

“But you only got four more. And they only look a bit like me and act nothing like me. What a disappointment.”

He purses his lips together in a smile, looking to be thinking for a few moments. “You have her smile and her chin, her warmth and presence, her same sense of adventure and life. And you make everyone love you, just as she did.  You’ll make such a good Queen in the North… You already are.” He takes in a deep sigh, his eyes flooding with tears. “Karine… I love you and your sisters and brothers so much, but I don’t want to live… I don’t want to live without her. Not any longer.”

“I know, Papa,” she breathes, swallowing the lump in her throat. It breaks her heart to find half of his food thrown outside his bedroom window, to see him hole up in his bedroom and pass on any sort of meeting or company. “Think about when you will see her again,” she says quietly, “she’s waiting for you, I know it. Under a heart tree, ready to get married to you all over again.”

❁

_“Tell me a story,” she urges, giving his waist a small squeeze, “any story you like. The one about how we’re all living in the eye of a giant, or perhaps the one where Sansa got back at you and Jon for hiding a spider in her bed.”_

_“I have a better one,” he tells her, running a hand through her wavy hair. There are wisps of silver in his curls now, and she doesn’t care to look in the mirror and count how many are in her own. Still, he tells her she’s beautiful every day. He holds her hand despite the fact that her fingers are worn and wrinkled. He takes her in his arms at night and kisses over scars and markings that age and experience have left behind. She thinks he’s just as handsome as the boy she met so long ago - even more handsome, in fact. They’ve seen each other through good and bad times, and she wouldn’t trade the life they made together for anything._

_“What is it, my love?” she asks, bringing a hand up to cup his face and run her thumb over his cheek._

_“Our story,” he answers, and she gives a laugh in delight. “You didn’t want to admit how enamored you were with me at first.”_

_“Shut up. You’re telling it wrong,” she interjects, her jaw falling in mock offense, “I was an open book. You could tell how much I liked you from the moment we met.”_

_He shakes his head. “No, no. You’re a better actress than you think you are. I was slightly terrified of you.”_

_“You still are,” she jests, and he blows a raspberry, drawing her closer and burying his face in her neck._

_“I can’t tell the story if you keep interrupting me,” he murmurs against her skin._

_“Tell me the end, then,” she suggests quietly, “because that’s the only part I don’t know.”_

_“I love you more and more as the days pass by. We watch our children grow up and become even better leaders than we were. When the gods come to take us, we’ll have lived life with no regrets. And we’ll meet again in another place and time and start our story again.”_

_She smiles, running her hand over his back and kissing the top of his head. “I love that ending,” she whispers, “though you made it more of a beginning than anything else, sweetheart.”_

_He groans, rolling his eyes as he looks up at her. “You’re the worst,” he teases, and she laughs before he leans in to capture her lips with his._

❁

He pats his daughter’s hand and then reaches to take the last sip from the drink she brought him. “Goodnight, sweet Karine,” he says, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for your company. You’re so good to me.”

“Always, Papa,” she replies softly, letting him lean back against his pillows before she adjusts his furs, pulling them up to his chin. She collects his dirty dishes and clothing and leaves the room.

He closes his eyes. He’s tired, so tired that he isn’t sure if he’ll wake up when morning comes. As he begins to drift off, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

He feels Margaery’s arms engulf him once more.


End file.
